Mixed Perspective
by Natalilly
Summary: [CHAPTER 8: BELLATRIX'S POV][ON HOLD] Different people's perspective of the fate of Lucius Malfoy after the run in at the department of mysteries
1. Fudged up

**Understanding at last**

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Disclaimer: These people aren't mine, yadda yadda, you know the drill…

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Fudge was already agitated. His carefully constructed world was slowly tumbling down around him. Lord Vol… Lord… Oh, he couldn't even say it in his thoughts! You-know-who was back… right there in the Ministry of magic. Death eaters in the Department of Mysteries and Dumbledore… Dumbledore of whom he had fought so hard to oust out of office… had been right all the time. 

He sighed heavily, flanked by his Aurors making a bee line for the department of mysteries. He was uncomfortably aware of the grim nature of the procession. He was more then uncomfortably aware of Dumbledore sweeping a long in their wake. 

They came to a halt outside the golden grated lift, and someone evidently had pushed the button, because the little grill slid open and he certainly hadn't been able to reach. They all piled in. 

He had called in a great many Aurors, so there was limited room. He frowned, wondering whether to leave a few behind to catch up, but decided against it. No, there were Death eaters down there… Anti Apperating spell or not, he still wanted as many people around him when he had them arrested.

He fiddled nervously with his dressing gown tie as the lift lowered down underground, heart pounding. He had never expected this. It was too much. Why him? Why did this have to happen just as he had created a nice, even balance in the ministry? He sighed miserably.

The lift halted. Fudge hadn't really been paying attention to it moving in the first place.  He squared his shoulders

"Alright, take them all quickly." He said, hiding the slight quaver in his voice "I don't want any mess or any fights. I want them all unmasked and identified." There, that sounded a bit firmer, more authoritarian. He straightened, and strode purposely down the corridor to the black door, pretending a confidence he really didn't have. 

"Right men, the death room is it Albus?" Dumbledore nodded. Fudge couldn't help notice that there was something slightly melancholy about the way he did that "Let's get it over with. Death room please…" he said in a slightly raised voice. A door sprung open. Just as he started for it, Dumbledore piped up   
"I shall be leaving you now Fudge" he said, moving to a door beside that of the Death room "There are some injured students in the thought room that need attention. I shall join you later to see to a few of my own men who have helped round up the death eaters. I fear some may also be injured." 

"Very well" Fudge said brusquely, happy to be rid of the headmaster's towering presence. "The rest of you, with me." He jerked his head at the open door

Dumbledore vanished through the thought room door, as Fudge opened further the one that had creaked open at his request earlier

Sure enough, cloaked and hooded, a large group of people, some masked other's not, stood surrounded by several others- some Aurors, some unknown in the amphitheatre around the wavering arch

The death eaters were all huddled together, looking decidedly disgruntled and dispirited.  

"Take them." Fudge said, swallowing hard. McNair, the executioner… Crabbe, Goyle… He recognized some of them, and his mouth was dry. Some had worked beside him in the ministry. 

More and more familiar faces as others were unmasked and magically handcuffed. His spirits sunk into his boots, but he squared his jaw. As wiley as they had been, he had them now. Most of them were minor officials anyway… then….

"Cornelius!" A laconic voice he knew too well… his insides froze in absolute horror. 

Lucius Malfoy looked decidedly worse for wear. A scrape down one side of his face, his hair slightly dishevelled. An Auror was rather roughly restraining him, binding him with magical bonds.

"Malfoy?" Fudge whispered in disbelief 

"Fudge! You'll regret this…" he hissed, looking quite furious. Fudge was gaping, wide mouthed. Lucius Malfoy- who had given so generously to so many funds, who had often chatted with Fudge, who had even on occasion brought his wife over to dine with them… who now stood amidst some of the most dangerous people Azkaban had ever held. Who had broken into the department of mysteries. Who now stood defiant. Who supported he-who-must-not-be-named. 

"You'll regret this Cornelius! You can't keep us trapped forever! We have more power then you can ever reckon… I controlled you!" Malfoy snarled "You're a fool, Fudge! You will _never_ stop the Dark Lord!"

"Take him out of my sight…" Fudge said, sounding sick. He put his hands over his face; the realization of how he'd been so easily duped stung him. 

"So now you know…" Said a calm voice from over his shoulder. Fudge swung around from watching what had been one of the most influential wizards in the ministry being dragged away, cursing. Albus Dumbledore was peering sternly over his glasses 

"Now I know what?" He said, a little more irritably then he intended. 

"Now you know" Dumbledore continued "That there are more important things in this world then power and money- more then blood, even, Cornelius. What a wizard appears to be on the outside is meaningless."

Fudge looked at the headmaster for some time, ,then the door Malfoy had been dragged through and then nodded slowly.   
Dumbledore smiled. 


	2. Prepared for, but never expecting the wo...

**Prepared for, but never expecting, the worst**

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Disclaimer: these aren't my characters… Just in case you might have mistaken them… 

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It was late. She sat in the study, feet crossed at the ankles, cold eyes on a small clock. The clock was indented into the wall, and usually hidden behind a panel that only a certain spell could reveal. The spell wasn't the sort of thing the Ministry would regularly teach wizards, so there was little risk of being found out.   
She sneered a little when she thought of the fools in the ministry, how they dared raid the manor three years ago. They had left empty handed. Her husband was well versed in concealing things that he didn't want seen. 

The clock she was watching was a typical family clock. It had three hands and moving pictures of the three members of the family on it. They had another in the sitting room. This clock, however, had a few more words on it then the rudimentary "at work" "travelling" "prison" and "mortal danger" type that the ordinary family clock had. 

Words like "At the Dark Lord's side" and "Doing the Dark Lord's bidding" were the main reason this little clock was hidden. Any ministry official who saw that would go into paroxysm of delight at finding such an obvious statement of guilt. 

Narcissa took another sip of her gradually cooling tea. Women WERE quite welcome at the Dark Lord's side- why, her darling sister served there, but Narcissa wasn't the active sort. She supported him and his aims, yes, but she was quite content to let her husband deal with the actual work. She smiled in a cold fondness. Lucius was ever so good at his work. 

He was the reason she was up at all hours, watching this little clock. Kretcher, the house elf of the Black family had paid them an unexpected visit near Christmas, and provided them with invaluable information. The information had been passed, of course, to the Dark Lord himself- who had even honoured them with a personal visit- and implemented in the best way possible. Lucius was now following up on the plans that had been made since. She felt a fierce pride at this. 

Her thoughts were so lulled she didn't hear the door open quietly.

"Would you like another cup of tea, ma'am?" A small, timid, mousy haired maid said from the doorway, her head bowed demurely. Narcissa quickly banished the clock and wheeled around

"I thought I instructed that I was NOT to be disturbed!" She snapped. The maid curtsied and blushed to the roots of her hair

"Yes, ma'am, sorry ma'am…" She said, looking slightly terrified. "I hadn't heard such orders yet ma'am. I'm terribly, terribly sorry, ma'am…" Narcissa stood, putting her teacup down and took a deep breath. However, she let it out slowly

"Go then. Pass the word to the others that aren't aware and I shall forego any punishment." The maid looked up with a wild hope in her eyes "If I'm not disturbed for the rest of the night, I shall even forego informing my husband of your… lapse"   
The maid could barely conceal her relief and curtsied low "Thank you ma'am- you are most gracious!" And scurried off, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Narcissa glared at the door for a few seconds. It had been better with Dobby. The house elf had been disgustingly obsequious and filthy to boot, but he had been safer. All the serving staff had been enchanted to forget anything they saw within these walls as soon as they left the manor, but that wasn't fail proof, a good strong remembering charm could break it- and if anyone questioned them WITHIN the manor… She shut her eyes with a wince. 

They had serving staff when Dobby was around, sure- they needed them to do the washing and ironing of their clothing. But two maids were easier to control then a full house of staff. 

She turned back to the panel, muttering the vile spell that opened the clock's hidden compartment. Ah yes, the hands had not moved. Her son's was sitting happily on "Asleep" hers was on "Home" and her husbands looked at her from the position of "Doing the Dark Lord's bidding" She settled back into her chair, cast a quick warming spell on her almost cold tea and took a sip. 

It was past midnight when her mind was jerked from her sleepy musings. Her husband's clock hand was moving. It shifted from its original place to the space labelled "travelling" She sat up taller, blinking her pretty eyes wider, sweeping away the cobwebs of sleepiness. It was over! She gripped the arms of the chair in expectance, prepared to see the hand move to "At the Dark Lord's side". However, as usual, a nasty little worry gnawed at her. She was ALWAYS anxious after an event like this. Her two greatest fears lay in the two words "In mortal danger" and "prison" for both her beloved and her son. Her eyes flickered nervously to the two horrid words. She shook her head, banishing the old fear. 

The hand started moving again. She smiled satisfactorily as it hit "At the dark lord's side" but then vanished, sliding from her face like water down a drain. It moved straight past that. Maybe he was coming straight home? It was highly irregular, but… 

She stood up and smoothed her hair, assuming that was the answer. He would be home soon. She should call a maid to light the fire in their bedroom so it'd be warm when he….

It went straight past "home". Her hands began to tremble… Was the clock broken? Her hand and Draco's remained where they were… why…? 

It settled on the word "prison." 

She stared at it for a horrible minute, frozen. Then she acted, heart thumping. She shut the panel and ran to her bedroom. Frantically she dressed for bed and positively leapt under the covers. She was white and trembling like mad. Hadn't they always discussed this possibility? She gripped the covers hard. They'd be here any minute… 

Sure enough, five tense minutes later, someone knocked on her bedroom door, then poked their head in. The same maid who had offered her tea. 

"Mrs. Malfoy?" She whispered "Excuse me, Mrs. Malfoy?" The maid ventured nearer and bent over her "Mrs. Malfoy, oh please do wake up…." 

Narcissa pretended a groggy sleepiness she did not feel and turned to face the wide eyed girl.   
"yes?" She said in a curt, yet falsely sleepy voice, her hands under the covers to hide their mad shaking. She was glad it was dark. Her bottom lip trembled like a child's.

"I'm very sorry to disturb you Ma'am- I told them you didn't want to be disturbed but there are two ministry wizards here to see you. They say it's urgent… they're from the Department of Magical law enforcement…"   
Narcissa sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed "Oh very well, have them seated in the sitting room and I tell them I shall be with them presently."

The maid curtsied and made her polite escape.  
Mrs. Malfoy swallowed hard. No good crying now- they'd be able to tell. She didn't have the colouring to cry well, she looked all puffed up when she did. She straightened her shoulders. Lucius wouldn't want her to anyway. Resolutely she went to her wardrobe and drew out a teal green satin dressing gown, fastening it well. She ran a brush through her hair until it looked respectable, then primped in front of the mirror for a little while. She would go there straight backed and haughty. How DARE they imprison her husband!

Ready, she slipped on a pair of satin slippers and fastened her hair with a snake pin- then pocketed her wand. No chances. 

She descended the stair and swept as regally as she could manage into the sitting room where the witch and wizard sat enjoying a cup of tea. She wanted to smack it from their hands. 

"How may I help you?" She asked in her coldest, most bleak voice. The witch stood up, a look of annoying sympathy on her face. 

"Narcissa Malfoy?" The wizard asked, also rising. She inclined her head coldly. Who else would it be? She thought snidely

"We've come to inform you that your husband, Mr. Lucius Malfoy has been placed under arrest for Death Eater charges…" The wizard looked up at her. She kept her expression stony.  "The charges are as listed." He went on, handing her a piece of parchment. She barely glanced at it. "He will be put on trial in front of the wizagamont at the date shown. You are welcome to attend." 

The witch now came forward, and said in a slightly overly soothing tone of voice "We understand that this is a hard time for you, and you're welcome to visit on the times set on the sheet. I believe you have a son?" She asked. Narcissa set her jaw and nodded. "We were to send word to him through the headmaster, and a letter, but if you would prefer to tell him, we fully understand."   
"I shall inform him…" Narcissa said, icily. Draco… She hadn't thought of him…

"Ah yes… Well the headmaster will inform him first in the morning, I'm afraid- unless you would like to send an owl as soon as you can- it may move faster then Dumbledore's message." The witch looked sympathising. Narcissa glared  
"Is that all?" She asked, harshly. She felt her nose stinging a little.   
"Yes… we're very sorry." The witch said, moving to the side of the wizard, and they both disapparated. 

Narcissa unclenched her hands. Nail marks were on her palms. She got up and pointed her wand at the servant's quarters, and a silvery something shot in that direction like a streaking bird. A few seconds later, a butler came.   
"Fetch me a quill, ink and parchment- and our owl immediately." She ordered. The butler bowed and left.   
She opened the parchment the wizard had handed her. There were so many crimes listed. She breezed past them, noting quite a few she was aware of and that they had missed. That was quite satisfying, for some reason. Her eyes fell on the visiting times and her anger blazed. 1 until 5 on weekends ONLY? She almost crumpled the paper in fury. 

Just then the butler returned, arranging the requested items on a small table by a now curtained window, then left as silent as smoke. Mrs. Malfoy sighed and swept over to the things, seating herself and dipping the quill. She had to write to her son… 


	3. Merry Meet

**Merry Meet**

Disclaimer: I'm running out of interesting ways to say I don't own the characters. 

Authors note: As short and simple as this is, it was actually quite annoying tricky to write. 

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There was another burst of laughter and the Three Broomsticks rang with song.

The witches and wizards of Hogsmede had gathered together earlier in their copious town hall to discuss the recent developments from the ministry of magic.   
Being the only solely wizarding community in England, the news of Lord Voldemort's return had caused a buzz of terror through the people of the lazy little town. People had started barring doors, sealing them with unbreakable charms, peering through curtains onto the deserted streets, and gossiping with neighbours in hushed fearful voices. 

But now was a time of celebration. A time to savour small victories. 

Today the names and faces of all the captured Death eaters had been announced in the Daily prophet, and after discussing town safety at the community meeting, they had mostly retired to the pub to drink and make merry at the news of their blow to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

"Drinks all around!" bellowed a barrel chested wizard, already red in the face from drink, dropping a pouch of galleons onto the bar. There was a rowdy cheer from the pub patrons and a scramble to get their fair share of the freebies.

Madame Rosemerta worked hard; going as far as to recruit five assistants to help her serve, but the extra workload had not dampened her cheer. She passed out drinks as the barrel chested wizard had called; going so far as to call out to wizards and witches she knew hadn't collected their freebie. 

"Janie Crimp!" She called out over bobbing heads, holding up a dripping tankard. An apple cheeked woman wove through the crowd, beaming and taking the drink.  
"Won't you sit, Rose?" The witch asked her, laying a hand on her forearm in a motherly fashion. "You've been going non-stop since the meeting, and I wouldn't be surprised if you're on your last legs there, dear." 

Rosemerta bit her lip surveying the surging crowd.

"I'm not sure; these young puppies helping aren't all that good." she said anxiously, watching a young witch spill a tankard over an elderly little wizard, who, thankfully, saw the funny side and was brushing aside her hysterical apologies.

"Now dear, I'll send my son to help, Luca. You know him, he's been helping out on odd nights at the Leaky cauldron, he'll keep the young' en's in line."   
Rosemerta looked around. she COULD do with a little rest, and Janie wasn't the sort of witch to leave her hanging.  
"Oh alright." She said, smiling her dazzling smile, waving young Boris Ellington, one of the helpers, over. He sloped through the crowd, looking rather nervous and guilty- evidently thinking he was in trouble. 

"Ellington, Janie here's going to introduce you to her son; he'll be taking over from me and giving me a bit of a break. Pass it onto the others please." 

"Yes ma'am!" He said, straightening, evidently rather pleased he wasn't in trouble, before following Janie over to her dark haired son who seemed to have been cornered by a group of young witches.

Rosemerta settled at the table Janie had been seated, with old friends and patrons, Linda Fairweather, Maria Green and withered old Isabella Carmichael, who was sipping a fire whisky, draped in a shawl.  

"Evening Rose!" They all chorused in various sync. Janie bustled up behind her, sliding into a chair beside the window.

"Don't worry, Rosemerta, Luca's handling them well." She assured, gesturing to a rather handsome young wizard calling out for Peter Yardworth, holding up an uncollected drink.   
"You're a doll, Janie." Rose sighed happily, her feet aching as she relaxed. "I didn't realise how tiring that was!" She rolled her shoulders 

"Ah but worth it." Linda smiled, patting her hand "Looks like we'll have precious little to celebrate in the next few years I feel"   
"Oh, do leave off Linda!" Little Maria quipped "Let's not talk about doom and gloom.Isabella dear, grab that paper from the Wentworth's table, looks as if he's finished with it. let's have a good look at the felons we caught! In all the bustle, I heard very little in the way of names, or numbers."  
Isabella pinched the paper and laid it flat out on the table, faces of the caught wizards, and their names beneath glaring up at them from the front page.

"Goodness!" Rosemerta said, getting her first real look at the captured wizards "There are some very influential names here! Crabbe, Goyle, Avery, McNair. Goodness! Malfoy!" She said with a startled look 

"Could have predicted that." Isabella said, her eyes narrowed with dislike at the cold eyed picture "My husband, as you know, is on the board of governors at Hogwarts- Malfoy used to be on there as well." She sneered with hate "The stories my husband came back with about that man!" 

"But he was dreadfully influential in the ministry, wasn't he? Fudge must be feeling a right berk." Janie said, looking over the faces. "Most of the others here were also in the ministry. Look! McNair, formally disposal of dangerous creatures- now there's a man I wouldn't give an axe." 

They laughed quietly at that, and flicked through the pages of the paper, looking at articles.   
"Some of these fellows have children at Hogwarts."  Maria said, pointing at a small article about it.   
Rose nodded. "I rarely forget a face. Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy often come in here on their Hogsmede weekends." She said, peering at the article. "Young Draco is the spitting image of his father at that age. with any luck the incarceration of his father might discourage him a little."   
"It's always the children that suffer." Linda said sagely "I mean now those poor wee ones will be ridiculed at school.. Not to mention summer's nearly here and they'll be going home to houses with one parent missing."  
"I think they should have some programme for the children." Maria sighed "No doubt they've grown up on a steady diet of misdirection." 

"Don't be ridiculous!" Isabella scorned "Fudge, take decisive action? Half the wizarding population knew Lucius Malfoy was rotten through and he STILL managed to become Fudge's right hand! That man is hopeless! He spent all this year and part of last trying to convince us Dumbledore and that poor little Harry Potter were mad, and he FINALLY only comes around when You-know-who appears in the ministry its self!"  
"Yes, I was particularly sad for that little Potter boy, I mean, you don't do that sort of thing to a CHILD just because you can't handle the truth. Even when the issue was up in the air, and I like so many other fools believed the lies, I still felt it dreadfully wrong to incriminate the boy." Maria said, flipping to a page with an interview with Harry.   
"Oh dear!" Rose said, her hands to her cheeks "Young Potter got those nasty Death eaters caught. He and a number of his friends. it's all over the papers."   
"Yes?" Linda said, not seeing where this was going  
"And they're letting him mix with the children of the captured?" She pressed   
There was a dismayed murmur from all around the table.  
"Never mind, Rose" Isabella said soothingly, touching her hand calmingly "Dumbledore can fix it."   
Rose nodded, smiling "If anyone can."  
There was a startled crash from over near the bar and they heard Janie's son Luca shouting at someone.  
"Oh dear, looks like I better go."  Rose said with a sigh.   
The others all murmured thanks for joining them as she got up.   
She gave one last look at the sullen faces on the paper, and hurried over to check out the commotion.


	4. Like father like son

**Like father like son**

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_Disclaimer:  _Don't look at me…

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Draco awoke with a jerk, looking around wildly, heart racing. There was a commotion outside the hangings of his bed, people yelling and thudding about.   
with a muttered curse he swung his legs off the side of his bed, irritably shoving the curtains aside, bare feet slapping on the stone floor  
'WHAT'S going on?' He demanded imperiously, glaring around at his dorm mates, who were all huddled near the fire, staring terrified at the curtained window. Crabbe raised a shaking hand and pointed to the lightly fluttering curtain, moving gently in the breeze from the window  
He looked at it curiously, with the slightest sceptical sneer  
'That? You're scared of a curtain?' He asked, incredulous. But as he said it, the curtain started thrashing about wildly, as if it had mind of its own, and started emitting indignant shrieks.

'It's a Levifold! Get away from it Draco!' Goyle cried out stupidly. Draco almost laughed, as soon as the it had started to shriek he knew.   
'You great stupid oafs.' He scorned, making his way across the warm floor- noting in passing how it had kept the heat of the summer day nicely. 'It's not a levifold. Seriously, when I was brain time, you two were holding the door.' He opened the curtains, ignoring the frightened gasps from behind him. His eagle own fluttered free and perched on his side table, a letter tied firmly to his leg.

'Good thing I left the window open tonight.' He muttered, throwing a poisonous glare at his now sheepish cronies.

'This'll be from father.' He gloated, leaping lightly onto his bed 'Siddown you two. Let's see what he has to say. It'll be pretty unspecific, father's always careful about his letters, but I'm sure he'll tell me more over Summer.'   
He patted his arm and his obedient own perched, preening proudly. Carefully he untied the letter and dug out a few owl treats from a jar beside his bed, popping them down on the side table. His pet fluttered over and began eating with some relief.

Draco broke the family seal on the letter, savouring the excitement. His father had been out doing something important for the dark lord. He didn't know much about it because Lucius was always wary of letters falling into the wrong hands.

He unfolded the parchment and smoothed it out.   
instantly, it struck him as wrong. It wasn't his father's neat, spidery lettering on the page, but his mothers loopy scrawl. He bit his lip.

'What does it say?' Crabbe asked urgently. Draco frowned and read it out aloud.

_Draco. _

_LV__ failed- Harry Potter involved. Say nothing to shame the family. Answer no questions. Father in prison. I shall visit him this afternoon. Shall give details when you arrive at King's Cross.   _

_Narcissa_

His grey eyes darted over the hasty writings again as he fell silent, and his slightly puzzled, annoyed expression melted like wax. His mouth fell open slightly, and his face paled past its normal pallor.  
_Father in prison._   
He read that line over and over, his mind reeling. His perfect, clever, rich, pureblood father in prison. It was wrong! It must be a mistake!

'Draco?' Goyle asked, his eyes wide and saucer like 'Does this mean they know your Da's a dea…'   
'SHUT UP!' Draco hissed. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to speculate. 'Harry Potter…' He snarled, his hands scrunching over the page 'Potter! Potter did this!' The rage inside him was building to an unbearable level. He wanted to hit something, to break something. The image came to mind of repeatedly punching Potter, of tearing him, stabbing ripping, burning killing…

'Does it say anything about our Dad's?' Crabbe asked, breaking through the heavy clenching anger that Draco had fallen into.   
He looked down at the scrunched letter numbly. His father was in prison. HIS father. Because of Potter. Did Crabbe just say something?

'Draco?' Crabbe prodded.

'What?' he snapped. Suddenly his friends seemed nothing more then irritants. He wanted to be alone.

'Our fathers, does it say anything about OUR fathers?'  
'If it DID I would have told you!' he snarled viciously, tossing the scrunched letter to the floor childishly. He huddled his knees under his chin hugging them, trying to think logically.

He wasn't sure how long had passed when Goyle's owl flew in the now unblocked window.  Apparently, from the panicked commotion, bearing similar news.

It all flowed around young Malfoy like the tide, sound washing over him, unheard, his eyes seeing what never registered in his mind. His father was in prison. That fact beat against his mind like a hammer on steel. Father in prison, and it was Potter's fault.

In a movement that made his sleepy own start, he sat up quickly, rolling over in his bed to his draw, pulling out a piece of parchment and quill. Tongue between teeth he scribbled a note.

_Mother._

_Letter received. Interested in details of your visit to father, is there any chance he'll be permitted to write to me? Crabbe and Goyle's father's in same situation. Can we visit father as soon as I arrive home? Will keep my peace at school. Potter is another matter._

_Draco_

'Up to another flight?' he asked his owl. The splendid bird opened one eye, then another, putting his leg out, nibbling Draco's finger in a "yes" sort of way.   
He tied the letter to his leg and took him to the window. At he first whiff of open air, the own spread it's huge pinions, and took flight.

Draco watched it dwindle into the distance. Thoughts blissfully blank.

"What do we do now?' Goyle asked just behind him. He jumped a little startled.

'We deck Potter and his stupid little friends.' Draco replied quietly.


	5. Gaurding the beast

**Guarding the beast**

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_Disclaimer: _I have… no rights….

Artimus Penfold Was on duty at Azkaban. To be honest, it was a last resort job. Normally he provided security for big name wizarding bands, or Quidditch matches- his autograph collection was something to die for.

But since the Dementor's had left Azkaban, the ministry had been screaming for guards.

Usually, he would have simply lived of his earnings from his last big security job until the next match or concert, but the minister had written to him specifically- and the sum of money mentioned was larger then his earnings with the 'Wyrd Sisters', the Montrose Magpies and Celina Warbeck put together! It was certainly an offer he couldn't refuse.

So here he was, much to the chagrin of his wife, in the most depressing place on earth.

'Arty, we got a visitor up at the front desk- 'parrently her husbands in lock up- one of them death eaters. Can ya come up and escort her?' His magical summoning badge hummed. He looked down at it with a total lack of enthusiasm. Azkaban was bad enough, but the area they kept the death eaters was the seventh circle of hell.

'Coming up now Red. Who's she after?' He asked, careful not to let any of his discontent sound

'Cell 396- Malfoy.'

'Right on it. Be there in a sec.' he replied. Malfoy. The name was familiar. He shrugged it off. Probably read it in the paper. He wasn't one to get too cosy with the inmates.

The woman at the front desk was a stunner, alright, he noted to himself, careful not to look her over. Problem was she had this expression on her face, like she'd entered a muggle public toilet. That was a turn off immediately. Still…  
'This is Narcissa Malfoy, Art.' Reed introduced politely, his tone slightly bored. 'After prisoner number 396.'  
The woman's eyes flashed at the sound of her husband being referred to as a number, but thankfully she didn't make a scene. It wasn't unusual, but it did cut into work time.

'This way Miss.' He instructed politely, hunting through the bunch of magical keys at his hip, leading her into the dank depths of the prison.

'Is it always this filthy?' She asked indignantly, looking around with contempt. Oh this was going to be fun.  
'Most of the time. The Dementor's weren't big on cleaning.' He answered shortly, leading her down a flight of filthy steps to a deeper, darker area of the dungeon.  
'Not far to go.' He assured her, and himself.

In reality, death eaters were considered highest security prisoners and were on the lowest floor right at the back in the smallest, maximum security cells.

It was cold down there, and their breath left little puffs of condensation, even thought it was summer above.  
Water tapped in the silence, and the moans and cries of the hopelessly insane rang through the air like a curse.

By the time they reached cell 396, the lady was shivering a little, her eyes glittering frostily, her arms around herself.

'Here we are.' He said neutrally, swiping the magical key over the door in the prescribed pattern. The door sprang open and he led her in, shutting the door behind and casting an all seeing spell on himself. Just in case the prisoner attacked him to get out, every guard on duty would know.

'Lucius…' the woman said her voice slightly deeper, he clearly heard her cold brittle tone she'd used on him melt away and actual emotion creep in. Interesting.

The prisoner looked up and Art felt a slight shock of recognition. Lucius Malfoy, of course! Pureblood and filthy rich, one of the major wizarding families. Geeze, if they were involved this was a bigger mess then he'd originally thought.

'Narcissa.' He acknowledged, pushing the hair from his eyes. Looking at him now, Art wondered how no one had suspected him before. His eyes were cold and dead, his expression cruel and haughty. However, he stood and held out a hand to his wife like a proper gentleman.

The woman took his hand as if she were attending a social obligation.  
'Lucius my dear, so good to see you, I was dreadfully concerned when the authorities told me. I feared they'd've done far worse then imprison you.'  
'Is Draco aware…' He asked. His expression, Art noticed, didn't seem to ever change.

'I wrote to him as soon as I knew.' She took a sheet of parchment out of her robe pocket, unfolding it and handing it to her incarcerated husband. 'He wants to know if you can write to him…'  
Lucius scanned the letter, and looked up at Art. The guard shrugged

'I haven't heard you can't. I'll ask front desk. Would you like some parchment and ink brought down?' He asked, trying to be as polite and affable as possible. Mister Malfoy nodded curtly, before turning back to his wife.

'Can you manage the estate alone?' He asked. Narcissa nodded her fingers on her lips. Without warning she suddenly burst into tears and flung herself on her husband, sobbing into his cloak. He looked faintly annoyed by this, but reluctantly put his arms around her patting her back.

'Narcissa really…' He scolded.

'I know! I'm s-s-sorry… It's just… thought of l-l-living with you stuck in this horrid place!' She wailed, clutching his robes like a comforter.

Art decided now was a good time to turn his back and page the front desk.

A brief enquiry sent Yanis, another guard on duty he'd met only once, hurrying down with in and parchment. He turned back.  
Mrs. Malfoy was dabbing her eyes on a wispy handkerchief.

'When Draco comes home, I'll bring him down; doubtless he'll want to see you. I've warned him to keep his head and preserve the family pride and answer nothing. He's such a good boy…'

Lucius was watching her carefully, lip pursed in thought, as if framing his next question correctly. He threw a guarded glance at the watchful Art.

'Probably for the best. Draco is dreadfully impulsive at times and there are things he might possibly say that would prove… rather embarrassing. I shall emphasise the severity of the situation to him in my letter.' He said lightly.

Narcissa nodded 'He'll listen to you- God knows I have enough trouble making him listen to me.' She said with a fond, slightly maternal smile. Art had never seen an expression that odd before. Motherly love seemed to clash horribly with haughty arrogance.

There was a sharp click from behind them and Art recognized Billy Frizz's hand as it pushed the ink and parchment, he fetched it and coughed politely, holding it out somewhere between the two Malfoy's. Lucius took it delicately, sitting down on the very edge of the grimy looking pallet bed, scribbling down a letter to his son in neat spidery lettering. Art looked away, determined not to be seen as prying.

Finally, Lucius finished writing, signing the bottom of the letter and waiting for the ink to dry.  
'I trust your wonderful security precautions will dictate this letter be screened before it leaves the building?' Lucius asked coldly. Art nodded, keeping his expression neutral. Lucius made a slightly derisive noise and handed him the letter, getting up wearily. 'Do be swift with it, I would appreciate it delivered with all possible speed, and I dislike the idea of my wife spending more time in here then she has to.' He said, sneering a little at the walls.

'I'll see to it, Mr. Malfoy.' Art replied blandly, resisting temptation to open the letter and read it then and there.

'Now Narcissa, I don't want you running down here every opportunity- visit again when Draco returns and no arguments.' He said firmly holding up a commanding finger as his wife opened her mouth to protest. 'My decision. You know where all the financial documents are kept? Good. Keep the estate in order. I doubt I shall be incarcerated for long.' He said with a ghost of a smile. He chastely embraced his wife then turned her to the door.

As Art lead Mrs. Malfoy out of the cell, locking it behind, he decided that some things were worth more then money, from the innuendo in Lucius Malfoy's voice during his last message, he felt there was going to be a great deal of trouble at Azkaban before long. He'd go home this very night and inform his wife he'd resigned.


	6. Positions of a Potions Master

**Position of a Potions master**

Disclaimer: Aw, mummy, do I HAVE to disclaim?

Author's note: This is DAMN hard! I can't claim to know exactly what Snape is up to, and all I'm aware of, like the rest of us, is Malfoy is somehow connected, so I didn't want to put my own specs in here, but I wanted to have Snape as a chapter, so this has taken longer then expected as I tried very hard to put Snape's opinion without him actually HAVING an opinion stated! It's short but I couldn't drag it out.

--------------------------------

'You are positive you can cope without him, Severus?' Dumbledore asked gravely, looking over his glasses at the Potion master. Snape had his hands steepled in front of him and was looking back at the principal thoughtfully.

'Yes Headmaster. I will not say it will be any easier…'

'But still manageable?' Dumbledore seemed most anxious to the answer, his blue eyes were incredibly intense. Snape reflected momentarily, more on Dumbledore's overwhelming protective streak rather then the subject at hand.

'Yes, headmaster.' He said firmly, his dark eyes never leaving Dumbledore's pale ones. The headmaster of Hogwarts seemed finally satisfied and leaned back, tapping his fingers on the desk.

'Very well. If you run into any doubts what so ever…'

'You shall be the first to be informed headmaster.' Snape said curtly, making to rise. 'If I may be excused, I have several class schedules left to write and papers to mark…'  
'Indeed, Severus. Let us not fall behind in our day to day activities.' The headmaster said, rising himself, and stroking Fawkes on the head.  
  
The Potions master of Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry swept down the now deserted corridors, his dark eyes blank with introspective. Certainly Malfoy had been important, not pivotal, no; the order was too cunning to allow him only one route to the Dark lord.

Draco was going to be a problem, he thought suddenly, grimacing. The boy would automatically look to him for some sort of answer, some plan. He had none nor did he want any part of any- excepting of course the Dark Lord's own. The plots of a fifteen year old boy hardly ranked up there with anything possibly threatening to the Order.  
Although it might threaten Harry.

A smirk twisted the corner of his mouth. Ah well, he was duty bound to report threats to the Order it's self, and honour bound to report to Dumbledore. Harry didn't seem to be mentioned on that list of priorities. What a pity. He might even have to turn a blind eye to anything Malfoy pointed in Harry's direction. God knows a bit of antagonism might even be good for the boy- have him deal with some home style playground hatred, why, wasn't it his duty as a professor to encourage such… character building activities?  
  
He was lying through his teeth and he knew it. A kind, thoughtful, honest and caring Professor would stop this line of speculation then and there, and turn around instantly and voice their concerns to the headmaster.  
But then again, he thought as he turned the handle to his office, lighting the fire with a negligent flip on his wand, he never pretended to be kind, thoughtful, honest OR caring in his life.

He thumbed through the pages of student essays, sighing, wondering why he set the damn things. He hated poor grammar, detested misspellings, and students seemed more and more determined to punish him with them every paper he graded. Ah, look here "Propaties of akonight" Good lord did the boy even GLANCE at any form of reference. He scribbled a rather pointed note at the bottom and scrawled a very low grade. The child deserved one mark at least- he had managed to figure out which way to hold his quill.

He started to lose his momentum by about the seventh paper, petering out at the twelfth. So, they'd caught Lucius Malfoy. He leant back in the chair, staring into the fire. Eyes and thoughts a mystery.

_Sorry folks, not much here. Is there anyone you'd like to see muse about Malfoy's capture? Send me a review if you do and I'll happily think it over, ponder on how to do it. Lucius' POV IS coming, but I need to save it until last…_


	7. Corrospondance

**Corrospondance******

Disclaimer: These suck.

Author's note: Hasn't been updated for ages, along with MANY of my other fics. I'm really trying to catch up though… honest!

Dear Hermione.  
I know it's only been two days since I saw you or Harry last, but I'm going crazy here. I'm really worried about Harry, he was all psycho and depressed like when we left him, ever since Sirius fell through that curtain thing infact. What was that anyway? It gave me the screaming willies.  
It's all been so confusing. And it's all been really fast too.  
Did you see the Daily Prophet? Kinda a silly question, you always see the Daily Prophet. The names and faces of the Death eaters published at last! Took their freaking time about it. "Oh there's famous names and witches and Wizards who are Death Eaters, but no no no, let's delay and stroll along merrily first." Sheesh, stupid reporters.  
Dad's thrilled about Lucius Malfoy, though. He always wanted to pin him for something, but I think he's over the moon Harry did it instead. Keep it in the family, so to speak. I wonder if they'll get to raid their manor? Wish I could be there to see their faces crumble off the front of their heads when Dad unearths all their dark arts stuff…  
Wonder what Draco's Mum did when she found out we turned her son into a slug?  
Also wonder why the rest of them haven't been arrested, it's pretty obvious the whole rotten family is wormy. I bet even Lucius Malfoy'd talk if you hung Draco over a pit of lava or something. Don't know why though, if I were Lucius I'd be real glad to see Draco dropped into molten rock. Perhaps he should just kill Draco then his parents can try again and perhaps give birth to a human being instead of an eel.  
I feel like I should be more scared of You Know Who, but I'm not really. I wasn't around when he was at large and yeah, the idea gives me the creeps. But I just can't make it feel real. Even what happened at the Ministry feels like some freaky nightmare. Well, loads of the time it IS a freaky nightmare that keeps coming back. I finally know how Harry feels.  
Mum's gone a bit psycho though, you'd think You Know Who was going to break in one evening and steal all our valuables or something. Not like we have anything valuable anyway. Somehow I don't think the most evil wizard in the world will really want to steal Dad's collection of plugs. I know he's mad but even warped, sadistic, power hungry, demented wizards draw the line somewhere…  
Anyway, Mum's been locking the stuff up and bolting and enchanting the windows and doors every time someone goes in or out, even on the top floors! Fred and George are considering slipping a calming potion into her pumpkin juice in the morning, but neither of them paid enough attention in Potions to remember how to make one.  
Sorry this has been such a long letter, as far as letters go, 'specially if I'm writing, but I feel like I have heaps to say.  
Have an awesome holiday!  
Ron Weasly

PS. Do you have any idea what I can write to Harry about? I really don't want him to go off his rocker at me for saying the wrong thing, but I don't want to look like I don't care about Sirius and how he's feeling about it all.

PPS. Give Pig some water and food before you post back, He gets far too into his job sometimes and forgets to feed. Stupid feathery git.

Dear Ron.  
I'm really worried about Harry too, especially locked up with his Aunt and Uncle! They seem so unpleasant. I know the Order warned them against doing anything horrid, but I really don't know. I think he's just grieving- I remember when I lost my Grandma, I was so heartbroken even though I only saw her on Christmas and Easter. Poor Harry must be beside himself without Sirius. I think he might blame himself although we both know it wasn't his fault. I guess that's something he might have to work out for himself. Don't you dare go telling him that though, Ron Weasly, or he'll get really cross with you and so will I!  
Really Ron, don't you pay attention to ANYTHING? The Department of Mysteries looks like it's devoted to explaining things that're so powerful both wizards and Muggles can't explain them, like time- you know the room with the hummingbird clock? And the mind, which is where you got caught. I think the veil was death it's self. It's a really creepy thought though… Poor Sirius must be so confused.  
I agree, although I understand everything on an intellectual basis, it just makes my head spin. Not that I would have liked it all to be drawn out, it was all perfectly horrible to start with, but it all flashed by so fast I haven't had time to sort it all out in my head…  
I'm just glad your Dad didn't try to get Lucius Malfoy in trouble, nothing short of him incriminating himself in that room that night would have convinced Minister Fudge.  
I'd really hate to think of what the Minister might have done to your poor old dad if he tried though. I used to respect Fudge a lot, but ever since he was so horrible to us that night we rescued Sirius, believing Harry and I were silly children and all, my respect for the man has been declining rapidly- Oh I wish Dumbledore was Minister!  
Do warn your Dad to be careful! Though I think you're being more then a little bit silly about raiding their manor, even if they do, I don't think your Dad will be Fudge's first choice, no offence, I'm sure your Dad would be perfect, but he hardly has professional Dark Arts stopping qualifications, does he?  
I've also been wondering why the families of the Death Eaters haven't been questioned, but I always thought they might have and it hasn't been published or anything. But if they haven't, I wonder why? As much as I detest Malfoy, Ron you're being perfectly ridiculous about dropping Draco in liquid rock. We don't do evil things like that no matter how much we dislike the people we've caught.   
I would think being in a wizarding family you might be just a little bit more scared of the idea of You Know Who coming back then I am, although I admit I also have nightmares about it all (I am so proud of you Ron admitting you have nightmares!) it's hard to make it real when all my parents are worried about is their next patients (I did tell them about You Know Who, and they were concerned though!) and how well I do in school.  
Your Mum's just trying to protect you. People get a bit funny when they're scared. I have a cousin who's terrified of thunder. She's brave as a lion other times, but she starts whimpering and hiding behind furniture during a storm. It's hard to think straight when you're scared, and your poor Mum has lived through it all before remember?  
If you really want to know how to make the potion I can tell you, really Ron, YOU should know, it's really basic, we learnt it in second year!  
Hope you have a good holiday too, I'll probably see you soon enough though….  
Love  
Hermione

PS I suggest writing something similar to what you wrote me for Harry, just tell him you're there for him if he needs to talk and lave it there. Possibly tell him you'll pass everything you find out about the order onto him, though you don't know much at all.

PPS. How does a bird so small eat so much?


	8. Sisters

**Sisters**

Disclaimer: Not today.

Author's note: Look! Look! Chapters within WEEKS of each other! I'm SMOKIN'!

Tea and delicate little biscuits. Her sister never changed.  
Her husband was imprisoned, she was under inquiry, her manor had been searched three times in one week, each time unannounced, her privacy invaded by nosy reporters, she was hosting one of the "Ministry's most wanted" in her living room and she served tea and delicate little biscuits.

If Narcissa hadn't looks so terribly overstressed, Bellatrix would have laughed openly at the tense, forced domesticity.

'You comfortable?' Narcissa asked, as Bellatrix tried to remember how she would have sat in the days before her imprisonment- comfy chairs, plush surrounds, gold and silver, tea trays and porcelain tea pots were all like old memories catching up.

'Thank you. You mind?' She asked, pointing to the tea pot. 'I haven't served tea for almost fifteen years, wouldn't want to break it.'

'Don't mind at all, sister dear, really rather rude of me not to think of serving you myself.' She waved her wand and sent the porcelain tea set in motion. 'I've been all over the place of late. It's so dreadfully unusual to be rattling around all alone in the manor, I tell you; my comfortable little routine is completely ruined. Not that I haven't been alone before, goodness…' A teacup settled in front of Bellatrix 'Lucius often went away on business trips when he was governor of Hogwarts…' the sugar cube slipped out of the tongs, but was quickly caught again 'but there was always the knowledge of HOW LONG he'd be away for, now that he's… he's…' She looked terribly discomforted as the little jug poured milk into Bellatrix's tea.  
'In Azkaban?' Bellatrix supplied helpful. The milk jug clattered to the ground. And Narcissa's mouth formed a hard line; she waved her wand and cleaned up the mess.

'Really Narcissa, it's not like he's _dead_. Only incapacitated for a short time.' Bellatrix sipped her tea. She was somewhat disappointed (privately and NEVER admitted to her delicate sister) the Dementor's had joined The Dark Lord before Lucius had gone into Azkaban. After all, HE had denied his Master and gone free, never looked for the Dark Lord, never truly suffered in his name. Oh she didn't HATE him, nor really dislike him at all. Her brother in law could be quite charming when he put his mind to it, but she could never really forget the torture she had suffered and he had escaped without.

'Put your faith in our Dark Lord, Narcissa dear…' She patted her sister's pristine hand with her own somewhat dirty one. 'He won't see any of his followers under Ministry rule for long…'

'But it will never be the same.' She sighed sipping her own tea and sinking back into her chair 'the Ministry will be after him, I hardly think he'll be able to come back home…'

'The Dark Lord will have a place for him, my dear; he has a place for us all…' She smiled dreamily, though long used to the type of Luxury Narcissa now lived in, the Riddle house, after Azkaban had looked like heaven, it was more of a home then the Lestrange manor.

Narcissa obviously didn't really share her sister's positive view. She wrinkled her nose slightly, but avoided an argument by keeping silent.  
'What of Draco?' She said instead, putting her cup down. 'He's ever so used to having his father around, and he's getting to that unruly stage of adolescence, he needs discipline, his father could handle him, but I'm not sure I can manage that sort of authority on my own…'

'I've never met Draco.' Bellatrix mused, taking a biscuit 'Well, since he was a baby, that is. Missed a whole stage of my Nephew's life, how depressing…'

'Oh don't mope Bellatrix, it's most unbecoming.' Narcissa sniffed.

'Do you have photographs? I'm terribly fond of photographs…' She was terribly fond of anything really outside of four small walls, Dementors, prison food and bars. And her question had a two pronged reasoning. One, she was genuinely curious about her hitherto unseen nephew, and two, it distracted Narcissa from her annoying melancholy about her husband. Lucius deserved what he got for getting caught. Bellatrix would even be slightly disappointed if the Dark Lord didn't punish him for his failure. SHE should have been the one to lead the group in charge of the prophecy's relocation. She wouldn't have bungled like he did.  
But he WAS her brother in law and she really SHOULD respect him, family, after all was very important…  
She folded her arms as Narcissa fetched the photo album, she respected him as her sister's husband, as one of the Dark Lords more trusted, as a fellow Death eater, but her problem lay in her belief she could do better. And an underlying bitterness about his fifteen year long freedom.

'Why didn't you go back to the Dark Lord? Why didn't you search for him?' She burst suddenly, as her sister sat down.

Narcissa froze, tensing up like a muggle in the wand light, stopped half stooped to put the book down as she sat. It was obvious by the look on her face she'd been both expecting and dreading this question. Slowly she moved again, sitting down and avoiding her sister's gaze.

'Perhaps if you and your husband had decided to have children you would have understood.' She said primly. 'Draco was only a baby at the time. As much as I revere the Dark Lord I am not cut out for such active pastimes as you, sister. I never was one to get my hands dirty. I didn't really approve of being a single parent.' She said in such a way to cut off conversation.

'We didn't HAVE time for children, Narcissa.' Bellatrix said snippily 'WE devoted OUR time to serving the Dark Lord…'  
'Both of you were in his fold, sister.' Narcissa replied, looking back up at her, finally 'I was not.'

'We also hadn't been married as long as you two. And nothing takes precedence over the Dark Lord's bidding!' She announced, getting rather angry.  
Narcissa looked stonily at her sister and finally opened the book.  
'It's water under the bridge, Bellatrix.' She sounded calm again. 'I know you resent us; I know you think... you think Lucius deserves his imprisonment, you hide nothing from me anymore sister. I don't want to take it up. I don't want to talk about it. Come, sit by me and meet your Nephew.'  
She patted the seat beside her. Bellatrix shrugged and sat by her sister, her anger dissipating as she flicked through the novelty of photographs of the times she'd missed.


End file.
